


Alone

by juice817



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Masturbation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 00:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6543106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juice817/pseuds/juice817
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for blindfold_spn in 2009 for the prompt "Dean masturbates. Sam watches secretly."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

A low groan and Sam wakes immediately, mind flashing from sleep to an almost painful alertness between one breath and the next and he freezes, listening for the threat. But it's just Dean, and Sam breathes out slowly as Dean groans again, tries to calm his racing heart. He thinks Dean's having a nightmare, dreaming about hell again, is wondering if he should try to wake Dean when Dean makes another noise, and... oh. Oh, that's not a pain or fear sound at all.

Sam cracks an eye open very slowly. His face is buried in his pillow but his head is turned toward Dean and he can see his brother through strands of his own hair. He grins, mouth completely hidden in the pillow. He could have sat up and hauled out a camera and Dean wouldn't have noticed. And not just because Dean's eyes are closed.

Dean's kicked the sheet down and pulled his dick out through the slit in his boxers and his hand is working steadily over it, up, palm over the head, down, repeat. He's so hard Sam can clearly see the raised veins along the shaft even in the darkened motel room with only the faint moonlight through the window for illumination, but he's not hurrying at all. Up, palm over the head, down, repeat. 

Sam isn't sure how long he watches; it's almost like he's dreaming, watching his brother jerk off so methodically in the dark. Sam wouldn't be sure Dean was even enjoying it if it weren't for those sounds he was still making, trying to bite back. It's just Dean's hand on his dick. He's not squeezing his balls or rubbing his nipples, not trying to finger himself or touch himself in any other way. He can't be sure without moving, sitting up and looking more closely, but Sam thinks Dean's other hand is just flat on the bed on the other side of his body. Up, palm over the head, down, repeat.

Then Dean's grip shifts just a little and his ring catches on the crown and his breath hitches on the inhale and it's like that flips a switch somewhere in Dean's body; his hand picks up speed until he's nearly sobbing in each breath, his other arm comes up to cover his eyes for several seconds and then Sam hears "Fuck it" low and rough and Dean reaches down between his legs, long fingers pushing up under the leg of his boxers. Sam can't see what he's doing but he can guess, and his own breath catches when Dean's legs spread and his hips jerk and he chokes back a needy sound. Sam has never heard Dean sound like that.

Sam is just about to mutter a _fuck it_ of his own, to reach underneath himself and join Dean in jerking off when Dean comes, and it's so spectacular it almost looks painful. Dean's body arches clear up off the bed, muscles locked as his dick pumps out so much spunk that Sam's mouth opens against the pillow in surprise and he wonders if this is the first time Dean's come since he came back last September.

And that thought kills Sam's arousal completely. Instead of an aching cock it's his heart that hurts, and he watches Dean shudder and shake and gradually calm down in complete stillness. Dean lays back, panting, and Sam watches his chest slowly stop heaving, sees it move in the slow deep breaths of sleep for so long he thinks Dean is asleep, has almost drifted off himself again when Dean sits up suddenly and tugs his t-shirt off over his head. He uses it to clean himself off and then chucks it violently at the bathroom door, arms braced on slightly upraised knees and hand covering his face. The slow deep breaths come again only now Sam knows he's trying to calm himself, and Sam risks opening his eyes a little wider, trying to see Dean's face without letting on he's awake.

"Just want to fucking _sleep_ ," he hears faintly, and then Dean lays back again. Sam swallows against the sudden lump in his throat as a single tear rolls out of the corner of Dean's eye and into his hair. Sam closes his eyes again, giving Dean the only thing he can; privacy in grief.


End file.
